


yours to consume

by herwhiteknight



Series: 365 Days of Sarah/Cosima [18]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Introspection, Island - Freeform, Mild Gore, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Poetic Narration, Train of Thought, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 06:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herwhiteknight/pseuds/herwhiteknight
Summary: Alone and injured, Sarah has to find a way to escape. But the island isn't the only thing trapping her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: The. New. Season. Five. Orphan. Black. Teasers. And. Promos.
> 
> Day 19 of 365.

burning lakes and bloody flames and she's lost amongst it all. she's lost all hope, all family, all purpose. all that's left now is burning lakes; waves of pain crashing up her leg, immobilizing her. all that she has is blood dripping from her head, her leg, her eyes.

_they have kira. they have cosima. they have siobhan, felix. they have kira. kira, cosima. kira._

she can't stop here, she knows that. cosima's not lost – not that she really knows what to think of susan's comment of “up island”. but a boat was promising. a boat meant rescue. a boat floating on bloody lakes, burning pains. she can't stop, she needs to focus.

_but kira. cosima. but bloody lakes._

she snarls at herself, purposefully pushes into the slowly seeping wound to snap her mind back into life. or something resembling it. she needs to move. she needs to stop the bleeding first before she can move. can't leave a trail. a trail she's not sure who will follow.

_what if it was cosima? what if cosima followed?_

with a growl she pushes harder. snap, snap snap. manning, you gotta focus. you need to get your head together, what kind of saviour are you, can't get up off a bloody beach. someone will find you if you don't move.

a fire. there's something about flames that she needs. blood. it needs to be stopped. but her head is dizzy, she can't focus, it's all spinning. did the world just turn upside-down, was she under the bloody waves now? or was she drowning because the pain was choking?

_cauterize. stick it in fast, it'll hurt less._

a fire. that's right, something she needs. wood. or sticks. kindling of some sort. haul up, leg dragging behind, she's distantly aware of something moaning. but her lips aren't moving, are they? they're glued shut, are they not? the blood drying on her face, everything's immobile, everything's dead. she can't be moving. how has she gotten off the beach? they'll see her.

_but cosima. but cosima. cosima needs her, doesn't she? cosima. she has to move._

twigs. leaves. everything's wet. it's the blood, soaking every aspect of her life. cosima's lungs, cosimas lips, her sleeves her sheets. it's all soaking, it's all drenched. the ground is cold, wet. it's been raining here too. but there's a pile of leaves and twigs and things stabbing brightly into her leg as she trips. falls face into the blood. she thinks she might die here.

_cosima. kira. siobhan. felix. kira. kira. cosima. felix. she has to move._

shelter. she needs shelter. they can't find her. not when she has so much to do, so many lives to save. she chants in her head, _cosima kira cosima siobhan kira felix,_ and moves. she doesn't give a damn about herself, her leg, her life. she could pass out and never wake up for all the bloody damns she gives. if cosima's safe, if her family is free, then fine. they might miss her-

_they would they would of course they would, cosima loves you, they all do, fight for them manning. you have to move._

so light the fire then. next steps. that's all she can figure, her mind is a tangled mess of _kira kira cosima kira_ but her survival kicks in and she finds rocks on the beach, piles them into an altar. an altar she might die on, at the very least commit a suicide sacrifice. something's gonna happen here. she doesn't know what.

a fire. that's first. that's first.

did she have matches, of course not, she doesn't – wait. no. yes she does think that far ahead. her backpack, she'd dropped it. it's a few feet away and she knows she has matches in it. she'd packed. she prepares like that. at least, siobhan does.

_siobhan. always getting things ready, her burning tendencies, passing on like mother like daughter._

they're here. she strikes, and sparks twitch to life between her fingers. her bloody and shaking fingers. but the flame is steady. something about representing life, it's steady. it breathes a heartbeat. somehow tells her that she'll live.

_for cosima. you have to keep moving._

so. there it is then. a fire. a tiny one, but it will do. it has to. it still has ferocity, somehow. much like her. reminds her of the tiny sprite that siobhan would laugh at for being so ferocious. expending all it's energy before it had any chance to be any good for anything. but she had turned into something good. she had become a good mum, a better person, a stronger sister, a lover – though she hated it.

this then, this flame. this too would have it's purpose.

metal. something to heat up, this was next steps. not that she had medical experience but she had had her fair share of inflicting burns and wounds. on herself, on others. it was the same principle. heat applied to metal. metal applied to skin. simple.

rachel's knife was still with her. a defense mechanism, an offensive striker. now, however, a healing tool. or so she hoped.

heat to metal.

watch it glow. orange, like sunsets like sunrises. days and nights that she hoped to still see, but more than that, that she hoped to watch cosima see. cosima needed life more than anything she could ever give her.

_keep moving._

cosima's voice came in, cajoled, encouraged and murmured. said something about love, which she brushed off. sisterly affection, that's where that was at. not that cosima would know the difference. but she did. she had right from the start.

cherry red. she remembers the welds that siobhan had once shown her, she couldn't remember why. maybe that was before siobhan knew what kinds of things were appropriate for a self-destructive child, more volatile than any pipe or car bomb she could ever make. or maybe because siobhan saw it as the only thing sarah cared about. mending things back together with the heat of something violent, of something passionate.

_passion. right. cosima._

_keep moving._

the blade pulled itself from the flame unbidden. harnessed years of angry energy as it wormed its way towards sarah's skin. jeans. they had to go. they would contaminate. much like sarah once had herself. contaminating and poisoning and destroying-

_keep moving forward. you're different, sarah's different everything's different. you have people to live for. cosima kira felix siobhan kira kira cosima cosima cos..._

metal to skin. she could do this part right? she could, she could she could. cosima needed her to. her family needed to her. she needed to move.

the blade glowed in the sand. she had to set it down. she was scared. she didn't want to die. but the blade was a healing tool now, was it not? it would save her, it would help she had to do it.

jeans. fuck, was her mind that overwhelmed that such a simple unfettered instruction escaped her grasp? she could do this, she had to rip the material – something she was good at; cons, tearing pants from boys, teenage angst and ripping every material that came to decorate her body-

and the loud rip was satisfying somehow. childhood memories, she was more innocent then. but not by much. just less tormented, that was true. when did she ever use fire to heal?

orange. it had faded. shite, she couldn't waste time. rachel could be after her, what if she was sending people right now?!

_keep moving move move move._

the blade barely pulled back from the flames before the flat edge plunged against her skin, searing the flesh before she could react to her physical instincts. and she

_yelled_

someone would hear her, she knew it she thought she was going to die either way, so might as well scream. scream for her family, who was trapped – like her but different but they all ended up in the same direction anyways, under their heel, under their thumb, like lab rats alison had said – scream, then, for the love she would lose, had already lost, the love that had been deceived, the love that was pure and unhindered who had laughed easily until a different coiled snake wound its way around her throat and choked her out

_that she would never live down, she had warned her , from the very beginning, how had her glasses fogged over with such_ blood _that she couldn't bloody_ see -

manning. you need to move, tears are useless. they're always your escape but you have no escape now, do you? nothing more than this slowly dying blade and drying blood. you need to move. up island. to cosima. you'll lose her otherwise.

she's already lost her though, long before, at the very beginning. this wasn't about that, was it? of course it was, it always has been. it's always been cosima. when it wasn't kira, it was cosima. even when it was kira, it was cosima. cosima needed kira's marrow, it was hers. her tooth, her dna, her blood, her life. sarah, she.. she would barely hesitate. cosima had infected her.

and she loved it. every minute of it. everything leading her to this moment, here with this knife slowly sinking into the sand as sarah buried it, it was for cosima. didn't end up on the island otherwise. cosima was in danger, there was no question. cosima needed her cure (all of their cure, but it was cosima's first), cosima needed her blood, her life. sarah gave it. all hers. always.

but the only thing she never needed was her heart. because cosima already had someone else's. cosima would never need her heart. not then, not now or ever. a rescue, a sister, a friend. but never a lover. but sarah bled it out anyways. always.

but cosima just kept cauterizing it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't figure out why Sarah kept coming back to Cosima near the end of the fic. Girl's literally /dying/. But then, Shay's "Pit of the soul, can't live without it - love" quote came to mind and so. I let it happen.
> 
> (( https://mobile.twitter.com/orphanblack/status/607353875478249472 ))
> 
> And yeah I stole a "Cophine" quote for Punky Monkey, y'all really expect me to do anything else? :P


End file.
